Liking Him Like That
by The Hermione Granger Fan Club
Summary: A Phoebe/Gerald oriented outtake from 'Married'- notice how they're only couple Rhonda didn't predict? Featuring references to 'Love and Cheese' and 'Pre-Teen Scream'.


"Phoebe! Phoebe, wait up!"  
  
Phoebe Heyerdahl blinked pleasantly through her thick glasses as Rhonda Lloyd skidded to a halt beside her at the bus stop outside PS 118. It was time to go home and do her homework.   
  
"Why, hello Rhonda."  
  
"Don't you want me to find out who you're gonna marry, Phoebe?" asked Rhonda in a rather aggressive manner. She glared down at Phoebe as though she was personally wronging Rhonda.  
  
Phoebe was rather intimidated for a few seconds before finally answering, "I suppose it might be nice, Rhonda. Please do."  
  
The origami marriage predictor rustled in Rhonda's hands, and looking at it, Phoebe suddenly got a weird feeling.  
  
Snap out of it, Phoebe, she told herself sternly. Stop thinking that way about-  
  
"Gerald. Phoebe Heyerdahl, you're going to marry Gerald. Congratulations."  
  
"Gerald?" squeaked Phoebe.  
  
"Must dash, the front seats will nearly be full- but of course, they'd never take mine. I'm sure Katrinka or Nadine is saving it for me. Ta-ta, Phoebe!"  
  
Having said that, Rhonda swanned onto the bus.  
  
"Gerald?" Phoebe repeated.  
  
With a groaning lurch and a squeal of gears, the bus began to trundle away. Phoebe plummeted back to earth.  
  
"Hey, wait for me!" she called, and sped off after the bus until someone spotted her and told the driver to stop.  
  
"OK, Phoebe?" asked Gerald. Phoebe, who was still shocked, was opening and shutting her mouth like a goldfish. She nodded briefly and fled into a spare seat, up the back with Sheena and Eugene.  
  
All the way home, all she could do was eye the back of his head.  
  
"Carrot stick, Phoebe?" she heard Sheena ask, brandishing a bag under her nose.  
  
"No, thank you."  
  
"Did you hear the good news, Phoebe? Eugene and I are getting married!" beamed Sheena. She looked so happy. Eugene, on the other hand, looked rather ill. They did swerve around a lot up the back of the bus, but still, Eugene looked pretty sickened.  
  
Maybe he didn't want to marry Sheena? They were best friends, after all. Heaven knows marrying your best friend would be awkward.  
  
Phoebe thought about it and smiled. Sheena Horowitz.  
  
However, about Gerald-  
  
In a daze, Phoebe racketed into the house, where her parents Kyo and Reba sat at the table.  
  
"Hello, Mother, Father," Phoebe said distractedly, and soared up the stairs to her room.  
  
Reba and Kyo exchanged a glance. They recognised this- their daughter was obviously in love. It was a common thing from the Ronnie Matthews days. While Phoebe had been pretty adept at concealing her crush on the popstar, it was a small household and sooner or later Reba had discovered her secret stash of Ronnie-memorabilia.  
  
Up in her room, Phoebe sat down with a thump on her bed. Of course, she didn't LIKE-like Gerald. She nearly laughed out loud at the suggestion. Her? Liking Gerald Johanssen? Ha!  
  
In order to distract herself from the problem at hand, she put on her Ronnie Matthews CD and got on with her homework. As a rule, she didn't LIKE Ronnie Matthews that way any more.  
  
Still, when he sang 'I Saw Your Face And- Wow!', it made Phoebe think. His voice- or whoever it was- took her off to faraway places and made her heart fly.  
  
But now it only served as an irritating background buzz as she tried to concentrate.  
  
She found herself idly scribbling and yelped in surprise. Phoebe Heyerdahl didn't DEFACE her homework!  
  
Yet she flushed when she saw what she'd written.  
  
PHOEBE JOHANSSEN. PHOEBE J. P JOHANSSEN. PHOEBE JOHANSSEN-HEYERDAHL. PHOEBE HEYERDAHL-JOHANSSEN.  
  
... Phoebe and Gerald Johanssen.  
  
Phoebe smiled. It did... kind of have a nice ring to it.  
  
She panicked. What was she getting so worked up for? It was just a paper game! Only a silly paper game! It had no connection to real life! Who knew what people she'd meet, what would happen before the time came that she would want to get married?  
  
Providing, of course, that Phoebe EVER wanted to get married.  
  
I saw your face and- wow!  
Right then I took a vow  
That we'd be together, girl, just you and me  
That's the meaning of eternity!  
  
Phoebe kept her CD turned down low, knowing that her parents didn't enjoy pop music. She liked to please her parents.  
  
She stood up from her homework and stared into the mirror as Ronnie sang those words. She couldn't imagine anyone ever having that kind of reaction to her. Phoebe was tiny- the shortest girl in the fourth grade- with a snub nose and thick glasses.  
  
But maybe...  
  
Phoebe had stood sadly alone in the midst of the Cheese Festival that year. She saw all the other kids there with their friends (Helga, her best friend, was off trying to break up Lila and Arnold- when WAS she going to come clean about that to him, anyway?) or their family (Phoebe was the long-awaited and cherished only daughter of two professionals in their thirties. While she appreciated being long awaited and cherished, she did wonder what it would be like to have brothers and sisters sometimes). Phoebe had nobody. Feeling left out, she'd persuaded her mother to drop her off there, insisting she would be spending the evening with her friends.  
  
She hadn't been able to help it! All the kids had been talking about how much fun it was. She was only human.  
  
She'd been just about ready to call her father to pick her up when a tall-haired shadow had fallen across her lap.  
  
"Hi, Phoebe."  
  
It was Gerald. Phoebe could remember feeling oddly happy around him a lot of the time, although she'd always regarded their relationship as strictly platonic. Surely, he was no Ronnie Matthews.  
  
Perhaps Phoebe didn't need a Ronnie Matthews. Perhaps she just wanted-  
  
Um. Anyway, Phoebe had looked up from where she'd been sitting. "It's nice to see you, Gerald. Didn't you say you were coming with your family?"  
  
"Yeah, but Timberly kind of threw up on the Built-To-Hurl. Some loon told the ride operator to make it go faster. My parents are hosing her off and Jamie-O's gone."  
  
A smile flickered at the corners of Phoebe's mouth- she had a sneaking suspicion as to who the loon was.  
  
"So you're all by yourself?"  
  
"Yeah. You... want to go and get some Cheesicles?"  
  
"That would be quite pleasant," Phoebe had said. And suddenly madness had taken her. It had to have done. She'd never hinted quite as heavily as she had in the next sentence she'd spoken. Gerald had helped her up, and Phoebe had said, "I have a strong stomach, you know. It's from my mother's side of the family. I don't mind the rides at all."  
  
"Do you want to go on some?" Gerald asked, and Phoebe had fought not to grin.  
  
"Sure."  
  
They'd rode the Built-To-Hurl once... two times, and they'd staggered off the second time laughing and laughing. He'd been hanging onto her to keep upright. Her! Phoebe Heyerdahl!  
  
"Let's make a pact," he said, recovering. "We'll ride every ride at least once."  
  
"Deal," she said, hiccupping with laughter.  
  
The two of them had sat down on the steps into the Tunnel of Love.  
  
"You want to go on that one?" asked Gerald, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.  
  
Phoebe looked up. She could see kids jostling through the line so they'd get the partners they wanted.  
  
"Oh, I don't know, Gerald-" she said helplessly. "I'm- kind of scared of water." She was lying, of course, but it was the first thing that had come to mind.  
  
"There's boats. You can tell me about them. And you still got the hiccups, Phoebe."  
  
"Do- HIC!- I?"  
  
"Yeah. It'll calm you down."  
  
Phoebe was between happy and disappointed that nothing had happened on the ride. The whole way through she'd gabbled about the principles of buoyancy.  
  
When she'd stopped to take a breath Gerald had interrupted. "I like water rides, do you like water rides?"  
  
"Yes, I like water rides."  
  
"This is a good water ride, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
There was a silence as the boat emerged into the spinning air of the carnival and bumped on the dock. They'd found Gerald's family waiting outside- Jamie-O and Timberly smirked at the sight of them together. Gerald's mom had kindly volunteered to drive her home.  
  
"Gerald ALWAYS talks about you, Phoebe," Timberly had piped up spitefully, obviously furious at her brother for running off and having fun without her.  
  
"I do NOT!" hissed Gerald. "Timber-ly!"  
  
And he probably didn't, Phoebe told herself. Gerald told the truth.  
  
Of course.  
  
"Yes, he tells us you're a very smart girl, Phoebe." smiled Gerald's mother.  
  
"Bet you don't cost them a fortune in Cheesicles and cheesecake and cheese soda," muttered Gerald's dad from the front seat.  
  
"My parents allocated me spending money before letting me come, Mr Johanssen," Phoebe had told him politely.  
  
They'd reached Phoebe's house and Gerald had got out to walk her to the door. Jamie-O and Timberly, looking like they were about to burst, had started catcalling as soon as they thought Phoebe was out of earshot. Mrs Johanssen had shushed them loudly.  
  
A fact for which Phoebe suspected Gerald was extremely thankful.  
  
"Well..."  
  
"Well."  
  
Phoebe, acting upon instinct, had extended a hand. Gerald, looking taken aback, tentatively shook it, and raised his own hand for a high-five. Phoebe clapped her hand to his unenthusiastically.  
  
They looked at each other, and they smiled.  
  
"Bye," said Gerald, waving jauntily and walking back to his family's car.  
  
"Bye." Phoebe had paused. "I had fun."  
  
"Me too. See ya around, Phoebe."  
  
"Bye," she'd whispered.  
  
At that second, Phoebe suddenly found herself running to get the cordless phone. She found the class list in a drawer and dialled Gerald's number.  
  
Come on... come on...  
  
"Hello?" asked someone.  
  
Gerald.  
  
Phoebe's thumb automatically jabbed a button and the line went dead. She gazed at her hand as though it had a mind of its own.  
  
Only a paper game! her mind still insisted. Just a silly paper game!  
  
She didn't even know why she was calling him.  
  
Phoebe Heyerdahl stiffened her resolve. She redialled and waited for someone to pick up. After all, she didn't shrink from her father in fencing, or back down when there was a new book to be read.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hi, Gerald. This is Phoebe."  
  
"Hey, Phoebe... Are you the person who just called and hung up?"  
  
Phoebe imitated a hurt voice as best she could. "Gerald, that's not very nice. I don't play silly practical jokes!"  
  
"Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't have said that. Sorry, Phoebe. What did you want?"  
  
"Um- wh-what was our math assignment for tonight?"  
  
"Page eleven in the green book, Phoebe."  
  
"Thank you, Gerald."  
  
"OK. Thanks for... calling. Bye, Phoe-"  
  
"No, wait!" she cried. Her mother walked past with clean towels for the bathroom and gave her a funny look. Phoebe darted into her room and closed the door.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Gerald, I was just wondering, uh- do you remember the Cheese Festival?"  
  
"The one where we hung out together?"  
  
"Yes. I had a lot of fun, didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah, it was cool."  
  
"I was just thinking- perhaps next Cheese Festival we could meet up at the beginning of the Festival and, you know, uh- 'hang out' together. Officially. In a planned sense."  
  
She could imagine him blinking in bewilderment. "That could... hey, is that Ronnie Matthews?"  
  
Phoebe's CD was still playing.  
  
"Yes, it is. I don't like him very much."  
  
"I thought you won some contest where you got to meet him?"  
  
"Oh, I did. But I don't like him any more," Phoebe assured Gerald.  
  
"I don't like him either."  
  
"I don't like him any more..." repeated Phoebe.  
  
However, Gerald, her mind said authoratively. I like you.  
  
Phoebe ignored that thought.  
  
"So, do you think we could do that in fifth grade?" Phoebe asked. She was aware that her voice had taken on a begging tone and she cringed.  
  
"Sure, that'd be ni- grea- cool. Really cool! It's... it's a date. Anything else you wanted to talk about?"  
  
"No," said Phoebe, beaming. "No, that's it."  
  
"All right. See you at school, Phoebe."  
  
"Have a nice evening, Gerald," Phoebe answered, and hung up.  
  
She sighed loudly and happily, and snapped to attention.  
  
"My homework!" she squeaked, and ran to do it.  
  
Phoebe was rather put out the next day on the bus when Rhonda announced to everyone that the predictions of the origami marriage predictor were false. Feeling a little flat, Phoebe waited patiently for Rhonda to tell her that she and Gerald simply weren't meant to be.  
  
But she didn't. She'd forgotten. She just sat down and began yakking into Phoebe's ear.  
  
Phoebe stared out the bus window- not at Rhonda talking, or Helga, or even at Gerald.  
  
Who said that stupid little piece of paper had made her like him?  
  
SHE- Phoebe Heyerdahl- had made her like him. It was her work entirely and like a lot of her work, she felt happy and proud about it.  
  
She'd called him on the phone. She'd entirely gotten over her crush on that silly popstar. They'd mutually agreed to meet up at the Cheese Festival in fifth grade!  
  
And whether that really happened, well, Phoebe decided it'd have to go the way it'd go.   
  
Although Phoebe was by no means considered Rhonda Mistress of Fate and Ruler of the Universe (unlike some other people)- hey, it was nice to dream. Nice to hope.  
  
It was nice, liking him like that.  
  
* * *  
  
DISCLAIMER: 'Hey Arnold!' belongs to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon. Not me. So don't sue.  
  
NOTE: My little brother and older sister have moved into my bedroom for the time being. It's dead annoying! They have the radio and TV on 'til all hours. That's how I got inspired for this fic. My little brother LOOOOVES Nickelodeon, and 'Hey Arnold!' was my favourite cartoon as a child.  
  
I hope I got all the facts right. It's been three or four years since I saw 'Pre-Teen Scream', and I only ever saw the last bit of 'Married'.  
  
I tried to work really, really hard at keeping everyone in character. (And by the way, I think the whole "I don't LIKE you like you, I just like you." thing is bloody hilarious. As well as "Where is it you're from?" "Kentucky, sir." "Ah yes, well, let's make Ken-Tuh Kay proud of you in the poetry reading.") 


End file.
